Help You
by fibermuffin
Summary: Marth and Roy fight for survival the night after a brutal war battle. Each one hangs on for the sake of the other, because of the love they have for one another. Marth/Roy. Yay.


Roy looked down at the ground below him where red spots had formed from the liquid dripping off the bridge of his nose. He clutched his bleeding stomach and cursed. "Damn it all to hell. Fuck." he said huskily, falling onto his side. He fought the urge to close his eyes. _Do not sleep now. I can't sleep. Don't fall asleep_. he told himself. Around him hooves were clicking and men yelling, clinking their swords. Roy's vision was blurring and all was becoming quiet.

"Don't sleep." he said, audibly this time. "Can't..."

When he awoke, he heard a deafening silence. The air was cold, chilling in the least. He looked down at his hand that he had pulled away from his stomach. It trailed a red sticky substance from his torso. He cringed and shivered, triggering a horrible pain in his midsection. His breath hitched and he let out a yelp of pain. When his vision cleared he looked out across the battlefield. It was a disgrace to see. Many of his soldiers, and the soldiers of other armies laying about in an undignified fashion. Not a single proper burial.

Behind him was a movement. He urged to turn to see, but he feared the pain that would ensue if he turned to see. He placed his hand on the handle of his sheathed sword, and squeezed it tightly as a familiar voice gingerly whispered.

"Oh, good. You are awake." The man's voice was soft and soothing, and it made Roy want to fall back asleep. The calm voice was followed by a startling ripping of fabric. "I was so worried." the man said, just as calm, but now with a sorrowful tone.

Roy coughed and cleared his throat.

"Oh, Roy." the man said painfully. His hand touched Roy's forehead gently and stroked his hot skin.

_He knows my name. What the hell?_ Roy thought. He abruptly twisted around to face the man, and consequently let out a shrill scream. Little moans escaped his mouth with each forced breath. His flickering eyes looked up to see Prince Marth. Even in the overcast lighting of the early morning after a battle, his wounded skin shone and his eyes overflowed with emotion. His eyebrows were turned up in worry.

"Marth..." _help. Help me._

"Roy, please, don't move. Okay? You're going to be fine." Marth said trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, as he saw his love in such a miserable state. He stroked Roy's cheek softly before ripping more bandage. "Do you think you can sit up?"

"Hnn...yeah." Roy began to pull himself up and Marth quickly put his hands on Roy's back and delicately urged him up.

Roy cried out and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. It was a horrible pain that he felt as the wounded muscle clenched.

"Shh, I'll be fast." Marth wrapped the bandage around Roy's abdominal wound. He placed the remaining bandage back into his brown burlap bag. "Okay, lay back now." Roy complied, resting on Marth's arm that slowly brought him back to the ground.

Roy had been to out of it before to notice, but he saw that Marth was bleeding profusely on his upper arm.

"God, Marth. Your arm. It's bleeding." he whispered hoarsely.

Marth's head snapped to his arm and his cobalt eyes widened. Like a child who had been playing and did not notice their knee had been scraped, and then came to the realisation, Marth let out a loud whimper.

Roy heard the cerulean clad man curse under his breath and then shake his head. He did the same bandage work on his arm and then rose to his feet. "We're gonna have to move quickly, or we're not gonna make it." His voice was not as soothing now. It was serious and firm.

There were several connotations to which Roy could interpret that statement, but he shook the thought out of his mind when Marth leaned down to pick him up. "Where's your steed?" Roy asked.

"Ran off. I don't know what happened. It's a blur. In any case, I'm going to have to carry you." It was clear to Roy that the pressure of Roy's legs against Marth's wound was excruciatingly painful, but Marth said not a thing about it. Roy considered insisting on walking himself, but he was already beginning to nod off again.

Marth set off to town, each step tiring him more and putting him closer to utter exhaustion. Surely someone would come looking for him, he was the prince of the whole land of Altea after all. But, each step took him closer from that hopeful stray thought.

Marth looked to the sky and found the brightest burst of light behind all of the heavy grey clouds. It was high in the sky. _It's at least noon. Perhaps later, even.. _He looked down to Roy, whose eyes had long since fluttered closed. His breathing was quiet and faint.

Marth didn't stop to rest, and perhaps it was the wrong thing to do that he didn't. Because when adrenaline from fear began to rush through his weary body, he began to sprint through the forest. It was okay for a while, as he didn't notice his legs throbbing and aching, nor his ragged breath sucking in the cold air, nor his lightheadedness. That is, until he couldn't take it and it all hit him in the face at once. He tumbled to the ground and so did Roy.

Marth moaned in defeat. When his limbs failed to respond to his shouting will, he began to cry. Was it all over? Was this it?

Roy mumbled and took in a deep breath, followed by a short coughing fit. He crawled over to Marth, who was face down in the grass, taking in staccato breaths.

Roy shifted his eyes up. Town was just over that hill. He was sure of it. Or that in a state of utter confusion, he imagined it. With hope in his heart and fire in his half lidded eyes, he flipped Marth over, who was now so shattered that he was now only lightly breathing and had fallen entirely limp. He looked down as Marth's beautiful face. It amazed Roy how lovely this man still looked, even as the impacts of war took their entire toll on him. Even as the last bit of energy was extracted from him. Even as he was in a state of disillusion. Roy peered at Marth's lips. They were chapped and cracked, but it didn't stop him from placing his lips on them for a brief moment. He loved Marth, immensely. He'd die saving him. With Marth as his motivation, he slid his hands under Marth's shivering body and stood up, one knee at a time. He scrunched his eyes shut and groaned as he reached his full height.

He marched on, continuing to tell himself, _We're in the home stretch. _

The outskirts of town came into view, lighted by the cloudy sunset, covered in colours of purple and orange. Roy grinned and made the final steps into town.

The greeting was more than hectic, as guards shouted around to others.

"Fetch a medicine man!" "Bring water and a blanket for His Highness!"

Roy was relieved, and let his eyes close. The chaos played out around him, and he placed himself in the hands of those around him. It was a blur the rest of the time, and he slept all night, and into the next.

And when he awoke, he visited the Prince.

"May I come in?" he said knocking on the door to the prince's chamber.

"Yes, Roy." Marth hoarsely answered.

Roy entered the room and limped over to the edge of the bed where he took his seat.

It was quiet for a moment, then Marth spoke. "You really saved the day back there."

Roy simply nodded then replied, "I wouldn't have had the chance had it not been for you."

Marth leaned up and inched in close to Roy, so that their noses brushed against each other. Roy responded and placed a hand on Marth's cheek, trying to replicate the soft stroking that Marth had done before so gracefully. They both leaned into each other and their lips finally touched, uniting in a kiss.

"I love you, Roy."

"I love you, too, Marth."


End file.
